Big, Tacky Romance-Novel Stuff
by Greyline
Summary: • Sometimes small decisions make big differences. Elena goes a little bit crazy after making her deal with Elijah, while Damon is the one to answer what turns out to be a fortuitous phone call. Walking home, Caroline unexpectedly finds herself eavesdropping on a very private conversation. / fluff fic for valentine's day / alternative perspective / season two /


**Note:** Found this kicking around on my hard drive a few days ago. It's an experiment with characterisation that should've never seen the light of day. Also, I'm pretty sure I wasn't precisely _sober_ when I wrote it...especially given it was during the festive season. I can only apologise for my poor grasp on the English language, and the weird perspective, and...you know what, I just beg forgiveness for this as a whole. But hey, it's Valentine's...which seems like a good enough excuse for posting pure fluffy cheesiness. Sorry about the cover - sometimes I doodle when I'm writing stuff, but I didn't realise how dark it was till I uploaded it. *shrugs* It'll just have to do.

 **Title:** Big, Tacky Romance-Novel Stuff

 **Author:** Greyline

 **Beta:** None

 **Penned:** 2016-12-27

 **Posted:** 2017-02-14

 **Summary:** [Set pretty much straight after Elena makes a deal with Elijah in 211 - By the Light of the Moon, but a smidge AU] The Grill calls the Boarding House trying to get someone to come down and deal with a very drunk Elena, Damon answers what turns out to be a very fortuitous phone call for him, and, her presence undesired by a soon-to-turn Tyler, Caroline takes a walk and ends up eavesdropping on a conversation which really ought to occur somewhere more private.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

 _big, tacky romance-novel stuff_

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

I know nighttime's dark.

Seriously, I _do_... I'm not _actually_ stupid, no matter what people say about me behind my back. So yeah, the night's just as dark now as it was when I was a kid.

-the day is light

-the night is dark

-killing is wrong

-we all get older

-dead is dead

That's how things were, how they've been my whole life. I guess that's how they _still_ are...yet _not_ , because now I've got things like:

-hunger is everything

-emotions are overpowering

-tyler's a werewolf

-your mother'll hate you for what you are

-eternity's not just a concept

And the night's all lit up to me...

Everywhere there are smells so bright it's like I can see them. It's similar to that weird condition thing some people have, the one that makes them hear colors, smell noises, or something... Except I can _see_ scents. They curl through the night, pouring out of the few restaurants and bars open late in the center of town.

Even without concentrating to hear stuff, I can pick up individual noises coming from _way_ further away than any nice, normal human can. Also, there are like these _disturbances_ that push through the air around me: The movement of a man opening his car door a few blocks away brushes over the exposed skin of my arms; the pulse of his blood beneath his skin rolls rolls and rolls through my skull like the sea turning over the shore; his every blink propels ripples into the night, like stones tossed into a lake.

When you're a vampire dead isn't dead, and you don't get older, and the night's never empty, nor any place truly dark. Even through a thin layer of cloud, the light of stars is tingly on my skin, and it's more than enough to get about by. It doesn't seem to be so much that becoming a vampire gives you awesome night vision, so much as any source of light is like a thousand times amplified.

I've not gotten used to wanting to eat people, but I've mostly come to accept vampires are a predatory species designed to travel in the shadows. I might have what vampires seriously older than me seem to like calling 'incredible control', but any restraint I have is definitely secondary to the hidden strength in my limbs, heavy and unused, wound damn tight and begging me to just hunt already! to bite and claw and tear and drink... I only keep myself in check by remembering who I used to be, otherwise I'd probably just descend into what would definitely be _glorious_ , decadent bloodlust — the sort which could satisfy me from toe-tip to hair's end.

It's quiet moments like this which make my theoretical-control worth it.

I don't bother with superspeed to walk home. Tyler kicked me out his cellar, and he was so scared about turning, it seems sort of unfair I should enjoy the benefits of my unnaturalness right now... Not while he's being horribly punished by the curse of his own.

It means my pace is slow across the town-square, and to be honest I like it like this: I mean, I could move faster — like _crazy faster_ — but it's sort of nice to pretend to be a normal human girl out for a late night stroll. Of course, no actual-human my stature, sex and age would feel so comfortable out past midnight alone, surrounded by shifting shadows and semi-drunk guys twice their size; but no human's a match for me now, that's kind of one of the perks of being undead. The flower beds I helped plant up a few years ago — part of a town project I helped in when my image was all that mattered — hold vibrancy by the smatter of starlight reflecting off them, and the pink and blueish scents of magnolia and honeysuckle flow over one another. It's really beautiful, sure, but I don't think it was worth _dying_ to see the world this way.

God... Tyler's in the Lockwood Estate's old slave quarters right now, probably writhing in agony. I wish I could be there to help him, could be for him what Stefan was to me when _I_ went through my shift from normal-human-girl to supernatural-monster-freak...

I wish he hadn't sent me away. Tyler's always been a hothead, and we've never really been friends, but it's weird when a guy like _that_ is telling you it's too risky for you to do something. He's right, I guess, because while _I'm_ strong, he might still be _too strong_ for me to handle...and if what they've been saying about werewolf bites being deadly to vampires is _true_...

Before he made me leave, he was going on about vampires and werewolves being natural enemies, and how he thought being able to smell me near might make his wolf more aggressive. Reckless jerk or not, Tyler's right. It makes sense, everything he said, but it still doesn't change the fact I feel like a real shitty friend for not being there with him the first time. He gets to scream and convulse and twist and buck, gets his bones snapping and reshaping, his muscles shifting and lengthening, (I mean, we know it's way bad thanks to his uncle's super-disturbing video diary) and _I_ get to enjoy a peaceful late night walk. Totally not fair.

Elena's out late too. She's leaning up against the railings of the steps going down to the Grill's kitchen.

Things in Mystic Falls #1 Hangout Spot are winding down. The music's soft, less rowdy than it tends to be in the evening, and some of the lights are dimmed to 'subtly' encourage the place's customers to think about moving on home. The ricocheting white noise of nice, normal (blissfully human: they're so lucky, and _God_ they smell good...) folks chattering away, speaking of work and TV shows and what they want to do over the weekend. Cigarette smoke spirals into the sky from the front steps, the dry scent of tobacco very nearly covers up the rich smell of the blood within those few die-hard smokers who don't seem to have listened to the memos about cancer and early death and expensive medical bills.

My movements slow even more, sort of meandering as I veer of course with some general thoughts of the Grill and Elena in mind. I'm stuck feeling a confusing combination of half-asleep on my feet, juxtaposed against a wish that the crisp night air wouldn't always make me want to just forget humanity and run in the wild. I'm passing the monument in the square, my eyes fixed on the alley Elena's lurking in, when something stops me.

Something's... _off_.

Elena's still leaned back against the railing, one leg awkwardly bent with the corresponding booted-foot flat to one of the poles, and the other leg bowed inward a bit to support her weight. I find myself fixed on stupid things: How my friend's cobalt-blue and silver earrings really, _seriously_ don't go with the slinky maroon top she's wearing; how the combination of that top, way too slutty-tight jeans, and Damonesque leather jacket make Elena look like a guy-vamp's wet dream; how her lazy mess of an updo exposes her neck in a way that's far too lickable, the beat in her throat visible to me even from a hundred feet away. The tiniest of her movements draws attention to the little tumbler of amber liquid in her hand, and the residue close to the top of it suggests its contents are lower now than they were before.

It's so wrong, so out of character, for a second I have a terrible thought: What if this is Katherine I'm seeing?

My hackles go up. It's natural self-preservation, because Elena's creepy-accurate doppelganger's a psychotic bitch hundreds of times older and more dangerous than me; and that's putting aside the fact the elder vampire threatened and manipulated me into a position where I might have to do stuff that hurts people I care about.

Reason catches up with instinct quickly, though.

I'm proud of myself, actually, because usually I tend to kind of jump the gun rather than thinking things through properly in situations that scare me. Katherine is trapped in the tomb, hopefully for good, which is a place even _she_ can't escape from unaided, and from where she can't hurt me anymore.

I really want to speak to Elena. I want to know more about what happened when my stupid, self-sacrificing friend decided it was somehow a good idea to run off and try to give herself up to that Klaus guy the other day. It's not like I've been kept in the loop on this one. I need to know why Elena, the only one of my friends who fully understands and accepts what I am now without any judgment, could rationally think for even a second we'd all be super-happy with the fact she was _dead_. I know, reasonably, one day she'll be old then gone, and I'll still be like _this_...but it's too soon for her to leave me...to leave all of us. We _need_ her.

I don't approach her and give her a piece of my mind because, gesturing wildly about with her glass, she starts muttering to herself.

"Come on," she mumbles, "come on, got to man up and just do this. You can do this, come on you can do this!" Her voice is scratchy from a mix of alcohol and too-little sleep over an extended period of time. "You've survived drowning...misery...crazy vampires that look exactly like you. You've watched people die, necks snapped, hearts ripped out their chests...fed yourself to vampires to keep them alive... You can _do_ this!"

She's obviously giving herself some kind of pep-talk. It's a pretty funny, but...well, seeing as I've given them to myself in the mirror before — and thank heaven's vampires have reflections! How would I get ready without one? — I suppose I shouldn't judge her cuckoo just yet.

"It's easy — say it like this, _I made a deal. It's a good deal, it'll keep you all safe, but I probably won't..."_ she trails off impotently, voice tiny and tired.

My jaw stiffens, because whatever she's going on about doesn't sound good at all. From here on out, any eavesdropping I may or may not do is totally justified. It's for Elena's own good — who knows what trouble she's cooked herself into this time.

"No, that's not... How about, _Look, I know you think I'm suicidal or something, but I'm not actually looking to die or anything. I really care about you guys and..._ No, no. Uh, _Guys, look — you might not know this, but when Katherine escaped Klaus he slaughtered her entire family, everyone she'd ever known or cared about. That can't happen to you — I love you too much. Wouldn't it just be better if we let him have his stupid sacrifice, keep you all safe?_

"Oh yeah, that'll go down great... Way to get myself babysat twenty-four seven till they think they have a plan to get rid of Klaus. Then again, twenty-four seven trapped with _some people_ wouldn't be so bad..." she muses, sounding...uh, _horny_. I _so_ don't need to hear my best-friend's _bedroom voice_.

"How do you tell someone you're going to die?"

Against my will, my eyes narrow. No, they're not _narrowing_ — I'm mad, blood's pulling itself to the surface of my skin, pooling at the top of my cheeks. My teeth push against my lower lip, cutting the inside of my mouth. Great, now I'm pissed _and_ ugly.

In the alley, Elena's garbling. Perhaps she's had a bit more than _one_ glass of whatever it is she's drinking?

"Oh God, why did I think this was a good idea?" she despairs to herself, hanging her head in her free hand.

By sheer force of will, I calm myself down. The freaky eye thing, the inhumanity in my face smooths out. I'm sure I'm just being all judgy without even bothering to get the full story; Elena's a good person and doesn't deserve to be attacked by an irate vampire for something like caring so much about people she would sacrifice herself for them.

A whisper of air forces itself over me, and I look back to the alley in time to see the Grill's side-door opening silently. Damon, as leathered-up as Elena is — which I find worrying for some reason — comes through the staff-exit and takes the steps up to street level.

In the same moment Elena downs her drink, pushes off the wall, and swears profusely. I'm mildly impressed by the... _creativity_ of her vocab — guess she really has been spending too much time with Damon.

"Coward!" she exclaims at the end of her cuss-litany, and Damon halts on the steps in surprise. "Just fricking tell them already!" she orders herself angrily, spinning round violently and hurling her now-empty tumbler at the ground. It smashes loudly, tiny shards of glass reflecting streetlight and starlight.

Damon's got his eyebrows furrowed in that funny 'I might be a puppy-dog, I might want to rip your throat out' way he has. His lips are puckered a bit, so I'm pretty sure that expression's actually _confusion_. Good to know, you know, for future reference and stuff. He chuckles bemusedly, finally showing himself to Elena.

"I'm pretty sure breaking glasses on bar-property doesn't actually constitute returning them," he says snidely. He does have a point, though — Matt's going to have to clean that up. "How's the littlest Gilbert? Thanks to him, _mine's_ stuck in a tomb sexing it up with the evil dead — I spose _yours_ is still recovering from being vamp dial-a-dinner. Between that and the—" Damon makes a twisting, wringing motion with his hands and a gruesome _shhchnuhkk_ ing sound rises from the back of his throat "—he's not been having a great time of it. Baby bro _really_ knows how to piss off the wrong people — and just to be clear, by _wrong_ I mean bored, pissed and largely psychotic."

Nice, Damon, real nice... Urgh, he's such a douchebag!

Apparently Elena agrees, because she bites out, "Get lost, Damon," now resting her forehead against the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley.

The smirk in his voice is even worse than the one on his stupid smug face, and I know he's shameless but _seriously_? it's dumb for him to say, "What, too soon?"

Honestly. Major dickage. He's talking about him _snapping_ her brother's neck. I don't know how she's not staked him yet — I've sure wanted to a hundred times over.

He comes away from the railings where Elena was originally leaning, coming to stop a few feet from my friend. "What're you doing, Elena?" he asks earnestly — I didn't even know guys _did_ earnest these days, it's a bit Gone With the Wind. "Drinking, smoking, swearing... Having conversations with yourself like a crazy person."

His tone's amused but the undercurrent is desperately concerned — funny from a guy who doesn't care about anyone but himself.

"You're a bit young for a midlife crisis, don't you think? Or is this a psychotic break?" He puts both his hands on her shoulders and leans down to look into her eyes; she doesn't flinch away, clearly not frightened of him. Brave and stupid, that's Elena. "This isn't _like_ you, ruining your good-girl image and all. People're going to talk..." he finishes in an annoying, sing-songy voice.

Even if it _is_ grinding my gears, he does have a point. Smoking, drinking? What, is she going on some kind of 'I'm going to die' bender or something? Does she really want everyone in town to think she's some kind of off-the-rails, undisciplined teenage disaster like...like...like _Vicki Donovan_. I mean, I love Matt to bits, but his sister was _way_ skanky.

"How would _you_ know?" Elena tosses back, sounding cold but not convincingly. "It's not like you ever met me before I got all quiet, before I was — in the words of our dear, supersensitive Caroline — 'sad and weird and boring' because the accident. For all you know I was a regular party-going, ungrateful, foul-mouthed bitch before that."

So sue me! Sometimes I say stupid stuff when I'm nervous. It's not like I'd _meant_ to upset her or anything. Besides — I said that while half out my mind on compulsions, and woozy from blood loss. Cut me a break.

"Hmmm...well, you _are_ a little ungrateful," Damon acknowledges, not even needing a moment to think about if... It's _true_ , after all, but that's pot-kettle-black territory for me. "You know, I save your life, then you just go trying to throw it away again. There's only so many times you can do that before I get seriously pissed. And I _do_ remember you having quite the wild-streak in Atlanta, something I'd dearly _love_ to see again...but you a bitch? Never, you don't have that in you."

"Maybe I do have it in me... Show's what you know."

He's still earnest, weirdly passionate, when he declares, "Elena, you're no bitch, no matter what I said at Slater's. You're the kindest, most forgiving person I know. We've ruined your whole life, and there you were ready to give it up for us...but you've got to understand, without you we'd fall apart." Too true. "You hold us together." Also true. "You _matter_." Totally true. "We can't lose you."

The bastard's putting on a hell of a good show. It's so easy to forget he's Stefan's evil, me-compelling, Jeremy-killing brother when he's being like this. All serious and caring and using the Salvatore romance-novel-stare. It is even possible that piercing-eyes-soul stuff's genetic? God, if companies could market that every man in the world would be a ladykiller.

Elena still doesn't move away from him, but she does tilt her head back as she begins, "Damon, I—"

He interrupts her. "You don't have to say anything, or explain all this," he says, pulling her into a hug. He tucks her head below his chin, speaking slowly, soothingly. "Just accept we're going to do everything possible to keep you safe, no matter the cost. I won't let you die."

She breaks free of his grip, and he lets her pace for a moment while she decides what to say. Turning back to him, she begins, "Damon, I have to tell you something, and I'm sorry, and I've got to say this stuff now because I don't know how long I've got. Klaus and Elijah and the sacrifice..." Her words tumble over one another — she sounds sort of like me, all neurotic and desperate. "You guys are going to survive this, I know it."

" _You_ will live through this," he insists. "I don't want any goodbye-speeches or sentimental shit. You - are - going - to - survive - this. That's it. Period."

My friend shakily refutes Damon's declaration. "We can't know that."

It hits me like a freighter: She _really_ doesn't believe she's going to live through this mess — she completely, totally believes she's going to die.

"We can't know that for sure," she repeats more quietly, "and I'd never be able to rest if I didn't say this stuff. I can't die without you knowing..."

Knowing what? Why she died, knowing it sounds like she's made some sort of bad deal with that Elijah Original guy that's been hanging around, some deal that's going to get her killed? Why's she doing this to us? Surely she knows we don't think it's okay for her to die just so we can live?

"Hey, hey...you're not going to die," Damon maintains, not changing his tune even when she's despairing. He takes her face in his hands, almost like he's going to kiss her. "How many times do I have to say it to get through to you? Whatever it is you need to say, just tell me after this Klaus shit's blown over. I'll be waiting to hear it then."

But Elena's not satisfied with that. "I'm sorry...but _no_. No, I can't do that," she states, sounding very determined.

I can't blame her, I guess, 'cause if I thought I was absolutely going to die then I'd definitely be saying anything I needed to say to people sooner rather than later. I'm totally curious about what's _this_ vital. Maybe she plans on getting herself killed real soon and wants him to tell Stefan how much she loves him? That would be _so_ sweet...if, like, depressingly morbid.

"It's too important, and if I see— Well, this is my last chance to do this with a clear head, so it's got to be now," she adds, sounding like a woman on a mission.

Her next sentence takes my breath away:

" _I need you."_

I mean, not literally takes my breath away, and even if it did it wouldn't matter because I'm dead and stuff and don't _need_ to breathe anyway. But my heart does give a funny, stuttery beat, and my stomach drops like I'm on a rollercoaster.

She continues hurriedly, "I need you more than I've ever needed anyone in my life...and I know there's Stefan — I do — and he loves me, and I know this sort of makes me just like _her_ , and I don't want to get between you guys like this...but I just needed you to know."

Oh - my - God.

Is this what it _sounds_ like?

"I know you need me, sweetheart," Damon responds lightly, something I don't recognize in his stare — like he's avoiding something. "We're _friends_ , right?"

I guess he doesn't think it sounds like what _I_ think it sounds like. She stops him in that train of thought, though. I wish I could see her face, get a better idea of what she's thinking, saying stuff like that to the guy we all hate because there doesn't seem to be much human left in him.

"No, Damon, not like _that_ ," she corrects, then adds softly, imploringly, "you _know_ not like that."

He moves back a bit, head shaking. "What are you _saying_ , Elena?"

Her step forward matches his, crowding him. He looks almost scared of her, which is funny because, you know, he could snap her neck in a split second, a single movement she wouldn't even see.

"You _know_ what I'm saying," she tells him with new confidence.

He explodes. Even without vampire super-hearing I'd be able to catch his response.

"You know what, I don't!" he barks, looking equally hurt and angry — I wonder if she can see both the way I can. "Because you blow like the arctic, tell me it'll always be Stefan, then you smile at me like I'm your whole damn world!"

The way he's looking at her right now? 'Cause I kind of wish someone'd look at _me_ like that. Of course, he also looks really pained. Like, Edward Cullen _Twilight_ pained.

"You push me away when all I want is to pull you closer," he whispers resignedly, in contrast to his almost-telling before. Then he's back to normal, regular volume, a sensibilish volume, if worryingly growly. "And I _know_ you've been having some kind of 'the course of true love never runs smooth' spat with Stefan, and he can't be here right now — I won't be my brother's stand-in, not again!"

Yeah, _what about Stefan_? Elena's hitting on Damon while her actual-boyfriend's stuck in a tomb with that uberbitch Katherine? _Icky_.

Elena takes a step back, her body shifting in a way that telegraphs nothing but horror, denial. "God, Damon, no no, of course not! You'll never be anyone's stand-in."

Given what I've heard about Katherine and Stefan and the good old days, and what I'm seeing right now, I'm not so sure. Poor guy. Urgh, I'm totally _not_ feeling sorry for Damon Salvatore. The guy's a complete skeeze — he hooked up with me, drank from me, compelled me into not telling people and forgetting and stuff, then when I turned he tried to _kill_ me. He _so_ does not deserve my sympathy.

"God," Elena moans pitifully, "I had this all planned out — telling you — but I just can't say anything right!"

"You've said it all, Elena, _times_ over. You _care_ about me, it'll _always be Stefan_ —"

Wow, she actually said that to him? Like, took away all hope this clearly head-over-heels douchebag might've had that one day Elena would be interested in him... I mean, not that I care, but even if the guy's a complete ass, that's totally pulling-the-legs-off-spiders cruel.

"—you _hate_ me, I've _lost you forever_."

 _Wait_ , rewind... When did Damon ever _have_ Elena?

I thought we were _friends_! She's clearly been hiding stuff from me... Oh my God, has she cheated on Stefan with his _brother_? His _douchebag_ brother.

"You're _always_ telling me," he carries on coolly, wearing his 'trying not to let you know I give a damn' face — it's one I've seen before. "You're _always_ telling me. I _know_ I'm not good enough for you — you love St. Stefan... You don't want the guy who knows what it is to kill and not care, who tries to hurt your friends, who'll snap your brother's neck because he's having a nervous breakdown—"

So _that's_ why he snapped Jeremy's neck? Wow, emotional issues much? You really have to learn how to manage that stuff when you're a vampire. You know, how to breathe and think and try not to go on a murderous rampage or, you know, kill the brother of the girl you really really like.

When he speaks again, I understand how people can find him funny. " _You_ want a guy who eats defenseless, fuzzy bunnies for breakfast, reads you pretty, flowery poetry — Shelley and Byron and Leaves of Grass—" then it's not so funny anymore, because "—and your Last Rites. Someone who'll let you die if you ask him to, because he wants you to make your own choices to death!

"I get the picture — got it a long time ago... _Move along, nothing to see here_."

If Elena wanted to give herself up to Klaus to protect all of us, would Stefan let her go through with it? Would he really let her die just so he could have a clear conscience and know she made her own decision? That would be pretty dumb.

My friend distracts me from those kinds of worries, though, because after a short silence she's pouring out everything, just speaking and speaking and speaking completely without thinking it through. She sounds more like me than ever, come to think of it...

"I lied," she announces, and right now I can believe it. I've never heard her sound so genuine, so perfectly, hopelessly genuine.

"I lied a _lot_. Over and over again, because..." Elena sighs and it sounds like surrender, like admittance, and even _repentance_ somewhat. "I lied because it was easier. I wanted to pretend you didn't affect me, that I wasn't the sort of girl who'd do that to her boyfriend, to someone she loves.

"I thought if I pushed it down, ignored it, it might go away. But whenever you're in the room..." I still can't see her face, but I would guess she's smiling softly now. "My heart picks up, I can feel you before I've even seen you. When you move everything in me moves in relation to you, like you've got this magnetic field and I'm a compass pulled along by it. When you're upset I just don't know how to deal, so I freak out or shut off, and I tell you to go away...that I don't want you.

"And when you came for me after you staked Elijah, when I was coming down the stairs and you were just looking up at me..." Wistful. "And all I could see was you..." Dido, really? That is _so_ over. "Eyes bright, smile like I was everything good in the world, your _entire_ world."

Then a frown comes into Elena's voice, something regretful and tense. "And then Stefan was there, and I remembered — I picked him a long time ago, I've got no _right_ to you, and even though we've not really been _together_ together recently, I can't _do_ that to him. So I went to him, pushed what I feel for you deep down in me again, so deep I hoped I'd _never_ have to examine it."

Damon's eyes are unmoving, completely glued to Elena's face, and his lips are slightly parted in shock or disbelief or...startled pleasure, perhaps?

"Except I'd _already_ examined it. Not consciously, but I've known what it is ever since it came about, since it was this tiny little thing that grew and grew and grew until it was _all of me_ and I never even noticed."

Wow, she's actually being really kind of beautiful right now. She's making _me_ tear up...but _what about Stefan?_

"But pushing it down? That's not working, and if things go wrong we all might die, or I might die, and I just need you to know, to understand, I— I love you, Damon."

My stomach turns over again, that whooshing sensation. She was obviously working up saying it, I could see that trainwreck coming a mile off, but to _hear_ it's something else entirely.

" _I'm in love with you."_

Silence.

Damon looks all kinds of wide-open and shellshocked and awed and...something else, something I can't identify. It's an interesting combo, though.

More silence.

Awkwardness in the space between their bodies, and all of a sudden it's like the whole night narrows down to just them. Elena and Damon, Damon and Elena — no flower smells painting the square, no starlight, just tension hanging in the air like dust motes in sunbeams, like fireflies. It's beautiful, it really is.

More awkward.

Elena shuffles her feet, adding lamely, "And yeah, that's kind of it..."

I don't know what I'd do in Damon's position. I mean, if the girl I loved professed she was in love with me, then THE KISS would be the obvious course of action. But Elena _is_ still Stefan's sort-of-girlfriend — she and him have this on-again off-again deal that never goes away, like an epic-love thing. They're just _right_ for each other.

"I'm nobody's stand-in," he finally repeats, his voice clipped, stony.

So Damon doesn't take the expected route, no kisses...though I guess that's kind of sensible. Less reckless of him than usual, just going off and doing his own thing without thinking or caring who gets hurt.

Elena huffs, stomps her foot a bit. Petulantly. Like I used to do all the time when I was even _more_ of a neurotic, insecure mess of a control-freak than I am now.

"You're _not_ a stand-in," she insists. There's more life that one sentence than I've heard from Elena in a long time, more _conviction_. "What I felt for Stefan's _nothing_ like what I feel for you. I mean, yes I love him to bits, I do, but it's comfortable, it's safe, it's not..."

He's still stony. Like he can't bear to question this, because if he believes in it for even a moment, and then it's taken away from him... Like he won't be able to bear it.

I don't breathe, don't move a muscle, as he tiredly asks, "Not _what_ , Elena?"

"Passionate," she admits, like she's defeated, like she's embarrassed by wanting something as simple as a bit of passion in a relationship.

Elena elaborates, "It's not passionate. It's safe and comfortable and I've not let it go because... _I don't want to hurt him_. I didn't want to be _that_ girl who ditched a guy for his brother the moment things looked bad between us...but..." She trails off, changes tack. "I love Stefan, I'm just not _in_ love with him. It's kind of like with Matt—"

If I wasn't already paying total attention, I am _now_. I'd dearly love to know how my friend, coincidentally Matt's ex-girlfriend, feels about him these days. Just being nosy, of course — nothing more than a little intellectual curiosity...

"—we were such good friends and we tried to be more...but I just never felt it. There was no—"

"Passion," Damon echoed knowingly.

Do me and Matt have any passion, or is it all just like him and Elena were...comfortable and safe?

"Yeah," she agreed. "But _you_ make me feel like I'm on fire. I must be dust or ash or whatever, because I'm burning up when you look at me like—"

Damon's expression's kind of heated. It's way stronger than the one he used to get me to drop my panties back when I was human — stronger mainly because it's so _uncontrived_.

"—yeah, like _that_. Like you'd dive off the edge of the Earth if I asked you to. Like you could refuse me nothing."

Okay, screw Stefan for now — put a pin in it, because this is so romantic!

"You're in my dreams every night, you're all I think about in the day — when showering, when eating, while at school, while shopping. Wouldn't it be nice if Damon was here, I wonder if Damon likes to cook, this Woodstock project would be a lot more interesting if I could get Damon's firsthand account — I bet he was all over that party — or, this is a nice dress, I wonder if..."

She suddenly halts in that line of thought, going a bit pink in the cheeks. She's blushing, and if she didn't smell delish before, she certainly does _now_. Even though it makes me hungry, I try to focus on how Elena's totally crazy for this guy, and wonder how I didn't _know_. I mean, she's always spoken of Stefan really fondly, and all, and she's defended Damon a lot...but that's never been anything like _this_. How could she _hide_ this from me?

"It's all _you_ ," she swears, her voice low, sensual, ragged. "Everything is _you_. I see you everywhere."

If she was saying these things to me right now, I'm not sure I'd be able to turn her down. I mean, I'm not big into girls or anything, but if a woman loved me as much as Elena loves Damon right now, I wouldn't be able to _not_ give it a chance.

I see the moment Damon comes to the same conclusion. His frown smooths out, his already pale eyes lighten even more, and his mouth turns up into a pleased smirk.

With a spark of joy and curiosity dancing across his face, he cockily, delightedly asks her, "What _sort_ of dreams?"

The two of them shift a bit, and I _finally_ get to see Elena's face. She huffs and a grin spreads across it. She looks more like a real person, a happy person, a _living_ person. She's not looked properly like that in years, I don't think.

" _That's_ what you got out of this?" she asks throatily, sounding exasperated and fond. "I tell you you're all I can think about, you're driving me crazy I love you so much, and _you_ want to know if I have dirty dreams about you?"

"Well, _yeah_ ," he says like it's obvious. To be fair, it probably kind of is.

He shrugs, offers her a lopsided smile. It's pretty nice, actually. If he looked so pleasant all the time people might actually like him despite his habit of, you know, killing people who annoy him.

Elena gives him an odd squinty glare, looking like she's trying to hold back a laugh.

Damon throws his hands up under the force of her annoyance, like in surrender. "Alright, alright," he chuckles warmly — I didn't know he had a nice laugh, just that horrible, way creepy chuckle he usually does — "but I _am_ a guy, what do you expect?" He lifts an eyebrow and gives her a contemplative look. "So, _are_ they — dirty, I mean?"

I withhold a surprised giggle at the coyness in Elena's voice when she says, " _Sometimes_." I haven't heard that tone from her since...well, pretty much ever. Maybe when she was fifteen and just got together with Matt?

Damon's response is kind of predictable. It's a drawling, "Only _sometimes_... I suppose I must be losing my touch."

They're quiet for a moment. It's not a big silence, even though it somehow manages to be both strangely confining and content at the same time. It's like they don't know where to go from here, hanging, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I don't quite know how this has happened. How our lives have reached the point where I'm an undead senior who just watched my best-friend confess her love for her on-again off-again vampire boyfriend's people-killing brother...but they evidently _have_. As if life in Mystic Falls isn't twisted enough with all the vampire/werewolf/witch/doppelganger chaos, we've got so much boyfriend swapping and relationship drama you could film a reality show here and make a fortune... Actually, that wouldn't be too bad an idea...if it weren't for the fact it'd be _majorly_ big trouble if people found out vampires are real.

"Sometime's they're more...normal."

Elena's quiet, practically timid sentence breaks into my brief pondering of how a vampire would avoid being discovered if they lived in a town full of camera crews.

"Normal?"

Now he's definitely curious, and Real Drama of Mystic Falls is never going to get made.

My friend sound's sort of embarrassed as she admits, "You know, dancing...like at the pageant—" she twists her feet bashfully, like the real lead-girl in a romance-novel, which is cute "—just talking, going for walks like we sometimes did before everything got so...you know. Just being together...and, you know, _stuff_."

He takes a step back and lifts his hands in self-defense, or humorous surrender, or something. "Stuff? You mean _domesticity_. Yikes!"

Damon's clearly pretending to be disgusted, because despite the displeasure in his tone and words, his face is a really fricking happy open-book. His voice is overconfident — a sure sign of insecurity, _I_ should know — when he adds, "You've got it for me _bad_ , don't you?"

Elena takes it well, slapping his arm in mock annoyance. Her relief at him acting normal is clear when she says, " _That's_ what I've been trying to tell you."

"Oh yeah, I caught that through the word-vomit, believe me." He waves a finger past his ear a couple of times as he reminds her, "Vampire hearing and all that."

His voice drops to 'yummy if he weren't a murderous nutcase' again when he asks, "So... What exactly _happens_ in these dirty dreams of yours?"

"Damon!"

It's sort of hard to believe he's not dragged her off to his bedroom yet. Not the kind of self-restraint I've come to associate with Damon. I mean, not that he should be taking her to bed, they shouldn't be doing any of _that_ ; Stefan really needs to know about this before it goes any further. Or, you know, it shouldn't go _any further_ at all...

I'm of two minds, though, because they both seem to love each other _so much_ , even if it's really really weird. And what was it Elena said to me that one time? When it's real you can't walk away.

How could I just've walked away from Matt like that, give him no proper explanation for why? Stefan managed to control himself around Elena for ages, and I can't do it for even a few lousy days when the guy I love is human? What the hell's _wrong_ with me?

Worrying about my own crappy love life, I almost miss what they're saying now.

"Okay okay, but...whatever happened to _it'll always be Stefan, Damon_? Where did _that_ girl go?"

I'd like to know that too. I mean, I heard what she said, and it was totally captivating and everything, and really romantic, and obviously completely genuine, but why doesn't she _love_ love Stefan anymore? He's like the perfect guy for her — good looking, respectful, kind... What's not to love?

Elena laughs self-deprecatingly. "You mean the one who stomped on your heart repeatedly because she's insecure and frightened people might think she's a brother-hopping slut? She—"

"Don't call yourself that!"

Yeah, totally. I mean, it's kind of icky, but love is love and there's no way Elena wants to _hurt_ Stefan. She's not exactly a slut... She's not _me_ , for goodness sake! Now _I_ can be sort of loose.

She completely ignores his outburst.

"She realized there was a very real possibility she might die soon," she continued as if he hadn't said anything, didn't try to defend her to herself. "That I might die and I'd go with you believing you were always second best, second in my heart — that I either wasn't in love with you at all, or I was but I just loved him more." Yeah, that'd be sad. "But I didn't... _don't_. I can't pretend anymore, I just can't keep doing this. It's _you_ I'm in love with, it's _you_ I want. It's you I _nee_ —"

My heart leaps up into my throat...because Damon dives forwards and takes Elena's lips in a kiss. Morally, considering the players here, I shouldn't be cheering inside — but it's been that kind of evening, and I'm too sick of all the lies and secrets around here to argue with the new development in my best-friend's love life. I don't think it's the first time my heart's done that in the last ten minutes or so, anyway — I don't seem to be able to stop it happening.

This is all just... It just makes me _love_ love all over again.

One of his arms slides up the back of her jacket, exposing a good amount of her skin to the night, the other winds around her waist to lift her off the ground like in a good old-fashioned movie-hero kiss. He draws her closer as he said he always wants to, and doesn't let her push him away...not that she _would_ , going by some the stuff she's said. It's not surprising he's kissing her — hell, _I'd_ kiss her if she gave me a speech like that — but what's definitely surprising is way my stomach continues to turn over in sheer joyous-relief. Apparently I'm team-Damon all of a sudden... I blame vampire craziness and momentary leave of sense...and it was a really _really_ good speech!

Oddly — well, not oddly, because I remember Damon having some pretty good kissing technique — Elena's gone all quiet. After all her rambling, the silence is unsettling. They're not trying to eat each other's tonsils anymore, so it's not that... Unless he literally left her _speechless_ , but I don't remember it being _that_ good.

Damon seems unnerved, too.

"Well, say something," he requests, looking a bit deer-in-headlights. "Or have I shut down your higher brain-function? I've had _that_ complaint before."

She still not answering. Annoying...and awkward.

"Say something — anything!"

"You kissed me," she finally points out, sounding dumbstruck. Okay...apparently he _did_ render her brain-stupid.

His face lights up in relief, and that cocky grin returns. "You caught that, huh? You're more observant than I give you credit for."

"You actually _kissed me_. I didn't think— I thought perhaps y— I—"

Babbling. Nice.

He gives her an incredulous look and holds onto her more tightly. "When have I _ever_ been able to resist you, Elena, even if I wanted to? But...I can't do this with you...I can't be second to my brother for the rest of my life, chasing scraps."

She pulls away from him. "I'm telling you that's _not_ how it is!"

"How can I be sure this isn't some passing fancy?" Damon shakes his head, looking assured and sad and resigned. "Nobody ever chooses me over him."

I figure that's because he's a cruel, sociopathic, _dead_ borderline-alcoholic who kills history teachers in his free time and likes to make out with his brother's girlfriends. I'm totally not judging or anything, but that sort of behavior does _not_ win many friends. I didn't like him for good reason... No, not didn't, _don't_ — urgh, I do _not_ feel sorry for him! And I'm _not_ kind of buzzed about this whole alley-love-confession romancey stuff!

"You don't see yourself clearly," Elena insists, tugging on the open halves of that stupid, bad-boy leather jacket he always wears. "But if you don't believe me then...give me your blood."

Wuh?

How would that prove anything? ...Other than that she's way kinkier than I would expect of good-grades, goodie two shoes, don't-do-drugs-Jeremy, _vanilla_ Elena Gilbert.

Her next words clarify it a bit:

"You don't want me to die in this stupid sacrifice — I _know_ that, _I_ don't want to die either...but I might _have_ to." He tries to cut her off but she doesn't let him. "No, we have to face the facts. I might die, but...give me your blood — I— I'll transition."

Wait! _What?_

Damon must be shocked — _I_ am. To his credit he only scoffs and snaps, "You don't want to be a _vampire_ — you've told Stefan that much."

"You're right," my friend agrees instantly. "I've never wanted to turn for Stefan."

I watch Damon turning it over in his head. Myself, I try not to think too hard about what she's suggesting. I mean, it would obviously suck for Elena to be dead, but it might be nice to have a bestie who understands what it's like to be a vampire, rather than just witchy Bonnie who pretty much hardwired to _hate_ what I am... Which is totally selfish and speciesist of her, as it's _my_ fault that Damon healed me then Katherine _murdered_ me.

"But...you would turn for _me_?" he asks disbelievingly.

"Anything for you, _anything_ ," Elena responds immediately, breathlessly. Then her words are tumbling again, the kind of being-in-love-makes-you-crazy words that totally make me question whether or not my friend should be allowed to make her own decisions. "You can _drown_ me in your blood every night if you want to — make sure it's always in my system, I don't care. I love you, for you I would face death and et—"

He cuts her off with a rough kiss, and it's started raining. It must've done, because I'm totally not smiling and crying a bit and totally rooting for them now.

"Forever," he half-gasps, either surprised or out of breath from the making-out — the second doesn't make much sense, seeing as vampires don't strictly _have_ to breathe. "You mean it?"

"For as long as you'll have me, Damon," she reassures.

He looks extremely happy at that prospect, but a bit scared, too, as if he doesn't think it's possible this is true, or that it'll ever happen, or something.

"What about now?" he asks firmly, hurriedly. " _You_ turn and _we_ run. Katherine did it, she's still alive...uh alive _ish_."

Elena shakes her head, pointing out, "She's been _running_ for _five hundred years_. Let me do the ritual, let Klaus think he's got what he wants. I'll come back, Damon," she promises. " _I'll come back."_

Damon's eyes turn down at the corners heartbreakingly. "But..."

"No," my friend says steadily, defiantly and definitely. Then her voices gets kind of shrill and frantic, her hands waving around like she doesn't know what to do with them, and I find myself questioning her mental state again. "Promise me you won't turn me before the ritual, you won't condemn everyone we care about to death just because you're too scared to _lose_ me. Please, promise — promise me!"

"Okay...okay," he vows, catching both her hands in his. "Anything for you. Just..." he sighs, looking incredibly vulnerable, "Just swear you'll transition. Swear it! _For me_ , Elena. I couldn't — If you were — I couldn't... Just _swear_..."

And I didn't think Damon Salvatore could beg. Turns out I was wrong...

"I promise you, if I die in the ritual and wake in transition, I _will_ go through with it. I won't willingly leave you. I _choose_ you, forever, I swear."

I believe her, and it seems he does too. She's convinced him.

"Just me, not him?" he reaffirms.

Elena doesn't even blink, hesitate to confirm, "Not him — only _you_."

A smile in Damon's voice, bright in his eyes, curling on his lips, throughout his whole spineless, bastard body. "Forever," he breathes, in awe...like when I see I pair of designer shoes I really want on sale. "You can't know how much I've longed to hear that from you. I never thought..."

In the gap between them, I think it's kind of sad. Damon might actually be the worst kind of fatalist. Maybe he's such a douchebag because he thinks nobody expects him to do anything good — people expect him to be bad so he _is_ bad. It's just easier like that, right? Can't disappoint people who don't think you're worth anything.

And I can't believe I'm making excuses for him!

"You are _good enough_ ," Elena finally asserts, "and _I love you_. I'm sorry for how I've treated you — I've been a bi— uh, _not very nice person_ , and I can't ever forgive myself, but...I want to make up for it... If I _can_."

Damon's voice is strained as he says, "I think forever'll more than make up for it."

His eyes are still shining, though, pupils insanely dilated as he gently tugs her hands, pulling her out the alley a few steps. For the first time he's turned away from me and I can see Elena's brightly smiling face fully.

"Where are we going?" she asks through a laugh.

"You're coming home with me," he says simply.

His voice is so low and intimate I almost can't hear it, and it feels like I'm intruding. Well, I kind of _am_ intruding, I spose, seeing as I've been listening in on a private conversation for the past, like, twenty minutes. So...yeah. But they really shouldn't have a conversation like this out in the open where anyone might — and _has_ , I should note — hear you!

"You've got a promise to keep — and a lesson to learn," Damon's saying. "Mutual bloodsharing's better than sex."

 _Really?_ Huh, who knew...

Elena's lips turn up in amusement. "Even sex with _you_? Wow, _that_ must be bruising to your ego."

I can practically hear him roll his eyes. "Well...maybe not sex with _me_. I _am_ pretty amazing you know."

"Hmmm...I bet," Elena purrs, stepping even closer to him to the point where they're nearly walking under each others' feet.

Ewww, though. I really don't need the mental image of those two shacking up.

"No bets needed, you'll get a firsthand demonstration soon enough..."

My face seems to be frozen somewhere between softness and that ugly scrunched-up-nose thing that happens when something's yucky. Damon and Elena are, thankfully, finally getting too far down the street for me to hear them clearly. One of the last things I pick up is my friend's pleased laugh slanting through the air, making it spin up into little eddies as cheerful as she herself seems.

Then, finally, her laugh stumbles to a halt, and I just manage to pick up her asking Damon, "Uh...theoretically, if Stefan'd just got out the tomb, who's house do you think he'd go to? Yours or mine? Because honestly, that's one conversation I'm _not_ pre..."

Has Stefan gotten out the tomb somehow? Wouldn't that mean...he's at the Boarding House...or maybe he'd go to the Gilberts' first?

So what, Damon and Elena are either going to be all over each other and stumble into him, or they're going to think they're alone then get walked in on in the middle of... _Ew,_ that so sucky — I wouldn't want to be a fly on _that_ wall. It's one thing to eavesdrop on the confession-of-everlasting-love thing, but to see what happens the moment Stefan realizes his ex _ish_ girlfriend's just gotten together with his _brother_? That's not going to be pretty...

I don't even want to imagine it, but I don't really want to head straight home, either. I feel like maybe I should go speak with Matt — it's long overdue. I mean, I'm right by the Grill anyway, and there're no customers so it's not like we'll get _interrupted_ (or eavesdropped on, like _some_ oblivious idiots I could mention).

Almost all the Grill's lights are out now, and I can hear Matt turning chairs up onto tables and running a broom below them. Clean up in the town hotspot must be pretty hard work... Maybe he could use a hand — one of the perks of being a vampire is you're seriously fast, which kind of makes cleaning and stuff wicked quick. I can't believe Mom had to see me rip someone's throat out to realize I'm a vampire — if she were ever home, she might've actually noticed how weird it is I can do _all_ the chores in ten minutes flat without breaking sweat.

The door of the Grill's locked. I rap on the window, trying to do it softly because it wouldn't be the first glass door I've broken not knowing my own strength. It's a good job I have contacts at all the glazing companies in Mystic, and can convince them to work even on a Sunday; that's just a rare benefit of being a neurotic control-freak with a schedule and plan for everything, especially one with a supernatural compulsion factored in.

Matt looks up from where he's sweeping, turning toward the sound. When he spots me I grin and wave, because looking nervous will only make me _feel_ more nervous.

Bemusedly, he comes to let me in.

"I was just outside," I blurt as way of greeting. Which is pretty dumb because obviously he _knows_ that — he's the one who just let me come _inside_.

The look he gives me says the exact same thing I'm thinking. I can be _so_ stupid sometimes.

"Uh, yeah, so you know that bit," I whisper, trying not to get flustered. "And I saw Elena and Damon having this heart-to-heart thing and—"

"She sober yet?" Matt interjects, surprising me.

She's drunk? Well, I guess that explains the outpouring — she's not in her right mind. Being drunk doesn't exactly make you say anything untrue, though, it just kind of loosens your lips, obliterates any brain-to-mouth filter you might have — you know, in vino veritas and stuff.

"Um..."

"I had to kick her out for smoking in here... I didn't even know she _could_ smoke! And she's had like, a whole bottle and a half of whiskey...that shouldn't even be humanly possible! She should be fricking _floored_ right now!"

Do doppelgangers have a supernatural alcohol tolerance? Whatever, that's something to look into another day.

"I had to call someone to come get her, but I couldn't get hold of Stefan..." he informs me looking worried — about Elena's behavior, probably. "I mean, I didn't wanna call her aunt, 'cause I didn't want to drop her in the dog-house. I spoke to her boyfriend's weird brother. He came to take her home."

"Oh yeah," I mutter, "he's _taking her home_ alright..."

"What?" Matt asks in confusion. His adorable nonplussed-frown suggests he doesn't get the squickily-amused quality to my voice.

Instead of explaining, I just raise my eyebrows. "Okay... Well, no, I didn't know _that_. Like I said, I found them having some weird kind of heart-to-heart so, of course, I stayed to listen in. I mean, it was some seriously big, tacky romance-novel stuff — and...and..." I take a breath I really don't need, calm down, stop rambling. "And you know what, don't worry," I tell him, "I didn't come here to talk about _that_ freak-show... I came here to see _you_."

Matt shakes his head in disbelief, whether over my presence or my uncontrollable chatter. He opens his arms demonstratively, if not welcomingly, declaring, "Well, here I am."

I shuffle, like Elena was doing before she managed to actually tell Damon she was in love with him. "Do you mind if I get a drink, sit down or something?"

He tries to be stern, strong. "You know we're kind of closed, right?"

"Yeah, but...can I?"

Matt huffs in acquiescence, always having been a bit of a pushover. He's the type to do anything for anyone, and long as it won't hurt anybody. I've always liked that about him.

"Sure, why not? Be my guest." He turns away from me, heading toward the bar.

Following along behind him, I decide perhaps Elena's not the only one who needs to stop thinking about other people's expectations and just stand up and put herself out there to get what she wants. I might not be aging anymore, but time's passing normally for everyone else. It's time to grow up, try to be a better person. Starting with telling Matt just how I feel about him, and finding out if there's still anything more between us or if I've ruined everything. Like Elena said, we all might die, or _I_ might die, and...well, this stuff's too important to put off till tomorrow. Seize the day, and all that jazz...

The whole reason Bonnie agreed to do the ring for me, was so I could have the day as well as the night — it'd be a shame to waste it by leaving everything dark anyway.


End file.
